The Change
by Mummyluvr
Summary: Two months after leaving the hunt again, Sam receives a call from his father saying that a werewolf is on the loose and Dean has gone missing.  Worried, Sam takes the job and soon finds out that because of one selfish choice, everything has changed.
1. Chapter 1

About a year ago, I started writing this story. Then I gave up. This summer, I finally finished it. Yay me!

**Title:** The Change

**Summary: **After the daeva hunt in Chicago, Sam decides to go back to school, leaving Dean crushed. Two months after getting back to his normal life, though, Sam receives a call from his father saying that a werewolf is on the loose and Dean, who was hunting it, has gone missing. Worried about the brother that he abandonded, Sam takes the job and soon finds out that becuase of one selfish choice, everything has changed.

**A/N:** This story takes place immediately after the season 1 episode "Shadow."

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer: **The show isn't mine. If it was, werewolves would look more like werewolves than people with blue eyes and long nails in need of corrective dentistry :)

* * *

The Change

"I can't believe you," Sam Winchester muttered under his breath as he stormed into the motel room. He and his older brother Dean had barely made it out of Chicago alive. They weren't quite sure about the fate of their estranged father. "How could you tell him to leave like that?"

"I didn't think he'd actually…" Dean began softly. His whole face hurt and his heart felt like it weighed a ton and a half. He hadn't meant to scare their dad away, had just wanted to play the part of the good son, state the obvious, and drop it as soon as John agreed to stay with his boys. But he hadn't. Instead, the family patriarch had headed back to his truck and taken off, trundling through the shadowy streets, putting more and more distance between himself and his sons as he left.

"You didn't think at all, Dean," Sam snapped, forcefully throwing their duffel bag onto one of the two rickety motel beds, "you never do! Dad's gone. We don't even know if he's alive. After spending six months searching for him we finally find him and you tell him to go away?"

"But, I-"

"Just shut up and let me talk! You drag me all over the country searching for the man and then you just throw it all away like it's nothing. If he wasn't after the thing that killed Jess I wouldn't even be here right now."

"I know," Dean mumbled, his head hanging, fresh blood dripping onto the floral design on the sheets, "but we know he's alive now. We're finally sure that he's got a lock on this thing. We know he's safe."

"But for how long? What if the daevas got to him? You're not there to protect him this time. He could be _dead_ for all we know!"

"He's better off without us, Sam," Dean muttered, looking desperately up into his brother's eyes, "you heard the crazy lady. He's weakest around us. He lets his guard down."

"How do you know that? He knew it was a trap. He didn't come to save us," Sam shot back, his anger rising quickly, "he doesn't really care about us. You think he's weak around us because he's our dad and he wants to protect us? _You_ want to protect _me_. You're not weaker because of it."

Dean sighed. If only Sam knew the truth. Back when he'd been hunting with his father and on his own he'd never gotten into trouble. He had never missed a beat, never faltered, never second-guessed himself, and he certainly hadn't been captured and nearly killed as many times as recently. He was just like his father, a thought that secretly sickened him. Though he loved the man dearly, there were times that Dean just wanted to get away from him and his ideas about child-rearing.

Sam waited a moment for a reply before sighing loudly and stomping off into the room's small bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Dean stood and slowly approached the single mirror that hung in the room over a small dresser. He looked terrible. The cuts on his face were shallow and probably wouldn't scar, but the events of the night would leave a lasting mark in his mind. Sam wanted to leave.

He laid back on the bed, sighing and closing his eyes. Sleep. That was the answer. With sleep came oblivion, and with oblivion came peace. Peace was just what Dean's troubled mind needed at the moment.

The shower came on as the eldest Winchester brother rolled onto his side, letting his fear slip slowly away as sweet sleep took him. Blackness came, oblivion in the hectic day, an escape, a release. Yes, he needed sleep.

o0o0o0o0o

The sound of the door closing stirred Dean from his nightmare, the same one he'd had for two months after his brother had left for college, the same one that had returned when his father had abandoned him.

He looked groggily around the room to find that he was alone. Fear stirred in his chest. _Alone_.

Jumping from the bed, Dean checked the bathroom and found it empty. He then turned his attention to the door leading from the room. _He wouldn't._ He pulled it open and found Sam, checking his bags for any missing clothing, standing outside the door.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked, hoping he didn't sound as frightened or panicked as he felt.

"What's it look like?" Sam replied, "I'm leaving. If dad's following the demon, that's great. It means we don't have to. He'll call when he finds it. That's even better. It means we can go on with our lives. I'm going back to school, Dean, and you can't stop me."

Dean just stared at him, awestruck, as the younger man zipped up his bag and began to walk away.

"Wait," the elder began weakly, his voice catching in his throat, "you can't…"

"I can and I will," Sam insisted, never stopping, never turning around, "and you're just going to have to deal with it. We can't be a family, Dean. We never were. We're just too messed up."

Dean felt his knees buckle, felt himself slide down the wall and into a sitting position on the ground. Without his family, he had nothing. That was it. That had always been it. Just his family. He was too much of a freak to have much else in the world.

He watched as Sam walked away, the dream finally coming true, the pain coming back just as it had when his mother had overlooked him in Lawrence, when Sam had gotten into his car and driven off into the sunset, when his father had climbed into his truck, It was happening again, and there was nothing he could do.

He just sat on the curb and watched his brother's form grow smaller and smaller. Finally, after about an hour of waiting for Sam to come back, to change his mind, Dean went back into his room. The empty bed was a surprisingly painful reminder of what he had lost.

He closed the door, needing the privacy. His father had told him when he was four, still crying over the loss of his mother, that he had to be a man. And real men don't cry. But he was alone, and his father would never find out what he had done in that motel room just past the Illinois state line.

He cried, facedown in the pillow his brother had slept on the night before. It still smelled like him, a mix of blood, sweat, and shampoo. The room was silent, save the hunter's choked sobs and the dull vibration of a cell phone.

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So, that was chapter one. You guys know how much I love reviews, right? Well, not only do they make my world go round, but they give me the warm-fuzzies in my tummy. Review away! 


	2. Chapter 2

WOW!!!!!! Now that's what I call a response (along with the warm-fuzzies that it brings). Seriously, I haven't had a turnout like that for a fic since Straight From The Heart. Thanks, guys. You totally made my day. Now here's a little something as a reward for being such good reviewers!**

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**

**Two Months Later**

Stanford University

Sammy sighed, a large smile plastered across his face. He truly had a knack for this stuff. The other students envied him for it. He'd never really been envied before, and was glad that he had been able to come back to school on such short notice. He was even happier that Dean hadn't called in the two months he'd been gone.

As much as he loved his brother, Sam just couldn't find the strength to face the man. The last time he'd seen Dean, the older man had been broken, battered, and weak. Weaker than Sam had ever seen him before. He really didn't want to see his brother like that again, so he stayed away, screened his calls (not that he needed to), and went on with his life.

Sam was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of the professor calling his name.

"Yes, sir?" he asked, realizing just how hard old habits really die.

"Are you going to take that?"

"Take what?" Sam questioned, noticing that every eye in the class was turned on him.

"That call."

Sammy reached into his pocket, where his cell phone was busy making quite a ruckus. He checked the ID, expecting Dean after such a long silence, but instead found his father's name.

"Yes, sir, I am," he replied, grabbing his bag and jumping up. He ran from the room, answering the phone as he went. "Where do you want me and how soon?"

"Relax, Sammy," his father's calm voice soothed, "it's not that. It's Dean. I haven't heard from him in a couple of months. I'm worried."

"He's fine," Sam groaned, knowing the teacher wouldn't let him back in the room after the disruption, "he'll call back eventually."

"I don't think so. I called him right about the same time you two split up and sent him after a werewolf in Wyoming. I haven't heard back, and I recently started tracking the wolf again. It's moving, Sam, all the way to Wisconsin, and no one's stopped it. He was a little emotionally unstable when I called, I think. He may have done something reckless."

"And you want me to go find him," Sam sighed, "when you know that he's probably just biding his time until he can take this thing down."

"People are dying, Sam. Besides, it won't be a long hunt. Just go find the wolf and kill it."

"What about Dean?"

"If you find him," John said, "that's great, but don't go out of your way to look for him. The wolf is your main priority here, son, remember that."

"Yeah, OK," Sam muttered, wondering how his father could be so nonchalant and uncaring about Dean's disappearance, "what's the name of the town?"

"Wild Noose. Mostly forest, but there are a few houses there. Hurry, Sam."

Shaking his head, Sammy hung up the phone. He wasn't sure that he'd still have a place at the school if he left again, but he had a sneaking suspicion that his brother's life was in danger. He didn't even bother heading back to the classroom, just went straight to his apartment to pack.

o0o0o0o0o

John had been right. Wild Noose, Wisconsin was a heavily wooded area with a few small cabins and some campgrounds scattered throughout the mess of trees. Most of the roads were gravel, and the closest motel was about three miles out of town.

He knew it was stupid, but Sammy couldn't help but ask the desk clerk if anyone by the name of Rockford had checked in. No one had, which meant that Dean wasn't there. Great.

Sam stumbled through the door of the motel room and flung his bag down on the bed. He gazed around the run-down room, wondering how, exactly, after two months of being just like everyone else, he had wound up back in a crappy motel. It wasn't because his father had told him to go. He'd never listened to his father. It was because of Dean.

John hadn't known the extent of his eldest son's condition when Sam had left, but Sammy had seen it. He'd seen it in the older man's eyes, heard it in his voice, the way he begged and pleaded. He hated to think that Dean had gone hunting like that, thinking that he was all alone and no one wanted him.

But his father had asked him to go out and find a werewolf, and Dean had a nasty habit of following orders. After the hunt, Sam resolved to ask his dad where the wolf had struck first. He would check the obituaries around there, see if he could find any word on his brother.

He hated to think about it, but it was possible that Dean was dead.

Trying to push the thought of his brother being mauled in some remote forest out of his head, Sam opened up his bag and began digging through it for his pistol and silver bullets. It was going to be a long night.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry about the shortness of this chapter, but those of you who want answers are in for a treat!

Oh, and a lot of people have noticed that I enjoy selfish!Sammy and neglectful!John. They make for good Dean angst. Don't worry, though. I'm sure Sam will come around :)

* * *

A chilling howl cut through the darkness as Sam slid fluidly through the forest, gun at the ready. The first murders in the town had occurred a couple of days before he'd arrived, meaning that he had less than a week to track down the wolf and kill it. The good news was that the thing had staked a claim in a section of forest at the edge of town, and all of the murders were in that area.

Behind him, Sammy heard a twig snap. He spun around, gun aimed at the bushes. He saw a flash of amber and heard a rustle, but that was it. Carefully, he turned back and continued walking in the original direction, heading deeper into the forest.

Another twig snapped, this one closer, and Sam spun again. Bright blue eyes bored into him as he found himself face-to-snout with the werewolf. With a snarl, the wolf reached up with a large paw-like hand and smacked the gun out of the hunter's grasp while he was still in shock.

The feeling of the monster's paw against his hand brought Sammy out of his stupor and he turned and ran, still heading deeper into the forest. He could hear the thing running after him, hear it snarling and lashing its teeth, and knew that he was done for unless he could lose it.

Sam skidded to a stop when he reached a large rock formation that blocked his path. He spun around, back pressing painfully against the jagged cliff, cursing himself for not thinking to bring another gun. It had never been a problem when he was hunting with Dean. The older man had always had his back.

The wolf came slowly out of the forest, baring its sharp white teeth in a sort of sick smile. It stood on its two hind legs, legs that were heavily muscled. Its tail twitched behind it, anticipating the kill. It flexed its hands, opening and closing them, getting ready to rip into the hunter with wicked claws.

It was almost to the rocks, almost to Sam, blue eyes shining out of its dark grey face, licking its lips, itching for the kill. Suddenly, it stopped. Its long ears perked up and its head turned.

Sam pressed himself up farther against the cliff, looking to his left and right for a way out. What he saw as he did his sweep made him gasp.

Another wolf was standing in the trees. It was taller than the first one, better built, and looked more dangerous. Bright amber eyes shone in the moonlight as it took in the scene before it. The eyes lingered on Sam for a long time before the wolf opened its mouth to reveal wicked fangs.

It jumped from the cover of the trees, a sandy flash under the moon, and pounced on the first wolf. The two creatures went down, the second, apparently more able, one gaining the upper hand quickly.

Sam watched with fascination as the wolves fought over him, slashing and biting and clawing. Fur flew. The first wolf reached across and cut open the other one's face, eliciting a howl of pain and rage. The second one sunk its teeth into the back of the grey one's neck, also causing a howl of pain.

They struggled for what seemed to be an eternity before the grey one, the one that had chased Sam through the forest, finally ran off, yelping.

Sammy sank down to the ground, still leaning up against the rocks, relief washing over him. The wolf that had originally attacked him was gone. He was safe. And then he remembered the other one.

The sand-colored wolf was staring at him with intelligent eyes. Sam stared back, swallowing hard, again wishing that he'd thought to bring another gun, or a knife, or anything.

The wolf took a step forward, bringing its head down a little, its tail wagging spastically. Sam pushed himself back against the cliff, breathing fast. The wolf took another step, holding out one furry, clawed hand toward him. Sam stumbled sideways, trying to get away.

With a snort, the werewolf dropped its hand, shoulders slumping and tail standing still as something like sadness flooded its features. It bared its teeth in what might have been a grin, winked, turned, and ran back into the forest.

Sammy stared after it, too shocked to wonder why it hadn't eaten him. It had _grinned_. It had _winked_. That wasn't the most disturbing thing, though. As it had turned, something around the wolf's neck had caught the moonlight, which had glinted brightly as it was reflected. It was wearing a necklace, a necklace with horns and a face and a black leather cord.

"Dean," Sam whispered, slowly gaining his feet and stumbling back through the forest, constantly aware of the sensation that something was watching him.


	4. Chapter 4

Hm. Looks like Dean might've been bitten, huh? Well, you know the only way to know for sure is to ask beucase Dean is _so_ open and honest :)

* * *

The first thing he'd done when he got back into town was check the phone book. His motel wasn't the first one listed. That explained a lot. He packed his things and headed out to the first motel, driving along the gravel roads in his cheap car, his heart pounding, praying that he was wrong.

The Impala was parked in front of room 12, its trunk sitting open, when Sam pulled up. His stomach instantly tied itself into knots. What was he supposed to say? _Hey, Dean. I'm back, but only to kill a werewolf. It wouldn't happen to be you, would it?_ That wouldn't go over too well.

He opened his car door and stepped out onto the pavement. After taking a few calming breaths, Sam made his way across the parking lot to the room. He raised his hand to knock when the door opened to reveal Dean, who had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. "Jim Rockford?" Sam asked, eyes roving over the healing slashes on his brother's face.

Dean stared at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Don't you know?"

"Study abroad?"

Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Can we go inside to talk about this?"

Dean shrugged, stepped past him, slammed the Impala's trunk shut, and ushered Sam into the room. "Be my guest."

"There are two beds," Sam noted as soon as he had walked through the door.

Dean dropped his bag and looked away. "Yeah, well. Old habits. So," he turned back to his brother and flashed a toothy grin, "what brings you out this way, College Boy?"

"Dad," Sammy replied, sitting down on the bed farthest from the door, the one that had been his for as long as he could remember, "he called me at Stanford and said that a werewolf was on the loose out here. He said you were supposed to take care of it."

"Sucker's hard to track," Dean defended, "I'm working on it."

Sam nodded. "I went after it last night. Almost got mauled."

"You look pretty un-mauled to me."

"Something saved me. It was another wolf."

Dean nodded. "Great. Now we've got two to worry about."

Sam dropped his eyes. "About that. Dean, what happened to your face?"

"Well, I'm still tracking the wolf. Ran into it. I couldn't line up a shot, though. It got me."

"Really? Because that's a pretty fresh scar. It's not old enough to be from the last full moon. It's healed too well to be from this one."

Dean shrugged. "I'm a slow healer. So, this new wolf, the one that saved you, what are we looking for?"

Sam looked at his brother, really looked at him for the first time in his life. He took in the hazel eyes, eyes that were almost the color of amber, the dirty blond hair, the necklace that never left its place. "It looked like you, actually," Sam said softly, "same color eyes. Same color hair. It even had your necklace."

"Don't be ridiculous," Dean scoffed, "I was here last night. I was trying to track it."

"The wolf that saved me got into a fight with the other one. It got slashed across the face."

"Like you said," Dean pointed out, gesturing towards his face, "it's too old to be recent."

"Werewolves have regenerative abilities."

"Dude-"

"When were you bitten?"

"I wasn't bitten."

"You saved me last night."

"I told you, I was here."

"We can do this all day, Dean. I'm not gonna leave until you tell me. You know what that means? Even if you don't talk about it, I'm gonna find out. I'll know once the moon rises."

Dean sighed and crossed the room, sitting down on his own bed. He looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Your welcome," he finally said, his voice so quiet that Sam barely heard.

"Excuse me?"

"I said you're welcome," Dean said a little louder, "for saving your life. You're welcome." He looked up, looked into his brother's eyes, and Sam gasped. There was so much hurt there, so much regret, so much pain. He hardly recognized his brother.

"When?" he asked.

Dean dropped his gaze again. "Dad called right after you left. He wanted me to go after this thing killing people up in Wyoming. He told me to be careful. I was out in the woods at night and it jumped out of a tree. I managed to shoot it in the arm, and it ran off. I didn't see the blood until I got back to the room. I didn't know what to do. I turned the next night."

Sam nodded. "You saved my life. You can control it?"

Dean glanced back up at him. "Yeah. At first it was… difficult. Now it doesn't even really take any effort. It's a battle of wills, and I'm just stronger, I guess."

"But you didn't tell dad?"

Dean shook his head. "Didn't want to bug him. Besides, " he smiled sadly, "do you know what he does to things like me?"

"You're his son-"

"Doesn't matter," the older man said, standing up and crossing the room to gaze into the mirror that hung there, reminding Sam of the last hunt they'd been on together, "I'm a monster. He hates things like me."

"There might be a cure, though," Sam said, standing up and moving to the mirror beside the older man, "remember? Dad thinks that-"

"That severing the bloodline with work, yeah. But it's just a theory. Besides, there's a catch, isn't there?"

Sammy shrugged. "Well, he doesn't think it will work if the bloodline's already been passed on, or if the wolf has killed someone, but you're in control, so it doesn't matter."

Dean nodded slowly. "Just don't get your hopes up, ok? It's a long-shot."

"Right, but it could still work."

"Yeah," Dean mumbled, "so, uh, look, I've got this. If you want to go back to school-"

"Are you kidding me? My brother gets turned into a furry freak of nature and you expect me to leave? No, I'm tracking this thing down and killing it with my bare hands if I have to."

Dean stared at him with wide eyes. "Really?" he asked, his voice awed, expression hopeful.

Sam felt guilt start to gnaw at him as he looked at his brother. He never should have left. If he hadn't left, Dean wouldn't have been bitten. He wouldn't look so broken. He wouldn't be so excited about the prospect of a hunt. It was all his fault. "Yeah," he said, heart aching as he watched his brother try to hide his elation, "yeah, I'm gonna do this."

"Good thing I always get the extra bed, then, huh?" Dean grinned.

Sam forced a smile as he realized the truth behind the statement. Dean always got an extra bed, not out of habit, but out of hope. There was always someplace to sleep if Sam changed his mind. It was probably the most painful revelation Sam had ever made.


	5. Chapter 5

Ok, here's the deal. My family's planning on camping this weekend. I don't really want to go, but I might not have a choice. We don't own a laptop. I might not be able to update until Monday. Just be prepared for that.

In other news, this is my favorite chapter of the story, so I hope you like it :)

* * *

"So, does it hurt?"

Dean looked up from his map of the area. "Does what hurt?"

"You know," Sam tried to explain, feeling his face redden as he realized that it was probably a private matter. He struggled to find a nice way to say it, but finally gave up and chose instead to curl his fingers into claws and bare his teeth. "Grrr."

Dean chuckled. "Grrr?" Sammy nodded, face getting even redder. "You're serious?" Another nod. "Um, kind of. You know, bones rearranging, hair busting out where it really shouldn't, teeth getting all sharp, ears moving up the side of my head. That kinda thing. Yeah, it hurts."

"Oh. Ok."

"Why?"

Sam shrugged. "Just wondering."

Dean stopped what he was doing and turned to face his brother, who was busily typing away at the laptop, searching for possible cures. "Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Stop blaming yourself for this. It my own stupid fault I let the thing pounce on me."

"Yeah, but you are all alone."

"So were you. Last night."

"No, I wasn't. You were there. You were watching me the whole time. I felt your eyes on me. You saved me. I could have saved you."

"Dude, nothing can save me. I'm too far gone."

"That's not true."

"Look, Sam, really, it's cool," Dean said, "there _are_ perks."

"Like what? Hairballs?"

"That's cats. No, I'm talking night vision. Even when I'm not man's best friend. It's wicked. And the strength is just crazy. And the speed, and the agility. The stamina. Man, it's awesome. And my doggy senses."

"Doggy senses?"

"Yeah," the elder nodded, "you know, like smell and hearing and stuff. It's how I knew you were in the woods. You smell rank."

"Gee, thanks, Dean."

"I'm serious, though, Sammy. If there were more hunters out there like me, we'd get the jobs done a lot faster. I mean, look at my face."

Sam nodded. "Yes, it's very pretty." Then he actually looked. The scars that had been there that morning were gone. "Holy-"

"Yeah. Like you said, regenerative abilities. I nearly got my arm ripped off me last week, passed out in the car, and when I woke up it was fine. And the tolerance for pain is incredible. I actually broke my leg about a month back and it barely twitched. 'Course, it was fine a couple of days later."

"That's, uh…"

"Cool, right? So it's not all bad. Actually, if you can get past the whole 'cursed to be a monster forever' thing, it's pretty neat. I've gotten used to it."

Sam searched his brother for signs of a lie, but didn't find any. "So, what's the plan?"

"We head out tonight before sunset. Go into the forest together. I'll track the thing down, you shoot it."

"Then you should be all right."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Dean smiled, "like I said, it's a long-shot. Only a theory."

"Dad's never been wrong before."

"Yeah, well… after that, I guess we can pack up and head out. I've been watching a possible poltergeist in Iowa for the past week or so. It started acting up when the family remodeled the house. They're scared to go in, and they hate to sell it after all the work they've put in. I figure it's worth checking out." He looked over at Sam and flashed a confident grin.

Sam looked back at the laptop. "Dean," he began softly, "I can't stay with you."

"Why not?"

"I've got to get back to school."

"But I thought-"

"I'm gonna help you get rid of the wolf and sever the bloodline. After that, you can go back to hunting with dad."

"I don't know where he is."

"You'll find him."

Silence fell in the room for a while, leaving both brothers alone with their thoughts. "Is it really that great?" Dean finally asked, "that school of yours?"

"Yeah," Sam grinned, thinking of his friends and straight A's and that girl in his dorm that had been eyeing him for a little under a month, "yeah, it is."

"Maybe I could go back with you?"

Sam let out a bark of laughter. "Right. Because Stanford admits high school drop-outs." He turned to his brother, still smiling, but found that the gesture wasn't returned. In fact, Dean was staring at him with a hurt expression. "You're serious?"

"We could get an apartment off-campus," Dean explained, his eyes hopeful once again, "I could get a job. You could go to school. We could be a family."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think so. I just kind of need to get away. From everything. It wouldn't work out."

"Your precious friends would never have to know," the elder argued, his voice rising, eyes flashing dangerously, "I could leave when you want to have them over. It's no problem."

"Can we just focus on the hunt? Whatever happens after, happens."

"You didn't miss me?"

Sam sighed, turning back to his laptop and choosing to ignore the whispered question. The truth was, he wasn't sure.


	6. Chapter 6

So, the reviews from ther last chapter are in and the opinion is split. Some people love my Sam nad some hate him. I will admit that you all have points. Sammy's been known to have his selfish moments, but he3 does care about his brother. I understand why at least three of you have stopped reading, and I;m sorry you feel that you had to (and if you're listening to my apology, you obviously lied about not reading).

I will also admit that I am a bit of a radical Dean fan. I don't always like Sam. Scenes in Pilot, Wendigo Bugs, Scarecrow, Shadow, Salvation, ELAC, Bloodlust, Simon Said, Crossroad Blues, and just about every episode after that made me want to hurt him. The thing about Sam, though, is that he always comes around. He has lapses of judgemnet sometimes that cause him to say or do stupid things. This story's set after Shadow. how's he supposed to know his brother has issues.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I think Sammy had his reasons for being an ass last chapter. Stanford was his thing, his place to be normal and fit in and be like everyone else. He just doesn't want anyone messing that up for him, and, let's face it, Dean has been known to create some messes.

So, for those of you out there who are pissed at me but still, by some miracle, reading, I'm sorry if I offended you. You see Sam the way you see him and I see him the way I see him. That's really not gonna change. If you would keep readin, you might see that whole 'coming to his sense' thing I was tlaking about. i know he's not a jerk in the sequel :)

Now that I'm done with my Isaiah Washington thing, let's get on with the story, huh? Oh, and in case you hadn't figured it out, looks like I'm not going camping. Lucky me!

* * *

Sam rifled through the Impala's trunk, digging to the bottom to find the silver bullets he needed. "Just how were you planning on killing this thing?" he asked, suddenly realizing that his brother couldn't touch the cool metal to load the gun.

"They're called claws, Sammy," Dean said dismissively, his eyes roving over the forest, "duh."

"Oh." The brothers had arrived at the edge of the forest as the sun had started its descent and were preparing for a night of traipsing through the woods.

"Teeth work, too," Dean added, turning from the forest to flash a smile at his brother, "just be careful where you aim that thing, all right?"

Sam nodded, loading up a couple of guns because he'd learned from his mistake the night before. He slammed the trunk lid and glanced over at his brother, who had gone back to watching the forest.

The conversation they'd had earlier that day hadn't been brought up since it had ended, but it still had Sam thinking. Had he missed his brother? Had he missed his life? Missed hunting evil with the only person who would ever really understand him? In the two months that he'd been gone, he hadn't once thought about Dean. He'd been too busy with school work.

"You ready?" Dean's voice tore his brother out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, sure." Sam glanced up at the sun, which had almost disappeared beyond the horizon. "So, how long-?"

"Less than half and hour," Dean answered, somehow already knowing the question. He stepped into the thick line of trees, hands in his jeans pockets, and looked around, his pupils dilating in the dim light. He sniffed the air. "It's here."

Sam looked around. "How can you tell?"

Dean shrugged. "Smell."

"So, does it know that it's a werewolf?"

"No idea. Most people don't. I was working off the assumption that it didn't, until it started moving. It's possible, I guess."

Sam nodded. "If it knows and it kills people-"

"Possible that it knows, but can't control it. Like I said, it's hard."

The brothers began their trek through the forest, walking quietly, moving fluidly through the trees and brush, alert and ready for the attack. Suddenly, Dean stopped. Sam whirled around to see him leaning up against a tree for support, his head down, arm wrapped around his stomach.

"You all right?" Sam asked, taking a cautious step toward his brother. Dean responded by turning around and looking up through the trees. Sam followed his gaze to see the moon beginning to peek out from behind a slight cloud cover. "Great," he groaned.

The light of the bloated moon shone down through the trees and fell on Dean's hunched form. He moaned deep in his throat before dropping to his knees and wrapping both arms around himself. Sam watched in horror as coarse fur spread across his brother's face, neck, and exposed arms. The older man's shirt ripped as muscles bulged and grew. He dropped his arms from his body to the forest floor as his fingers elongated and wicked claws wormed out from under his skin. The boots he's been wearing ripped open as his feet changed shape and size and claws poked through the tough leather.

Sam swallowed hard, both disturbed and fascinated by the transformation taking place before him. He wondered how many pairs of boots, how many shirts, how many pairs of jeans Dean had ruined since being bitten. It stood to reason, though, that, knowing what would happen, his brother would usually strip to change, but had chosen not to that night for Sammy's sake.

Dean moaned again, a sound that turned quickly into a growl as his ears became pointed and started to slide up the side of his head until they rested on top, flicking slightly with each breath Sam took, apparently honing in on the soft noise. Dean looked up at him, then, with eyes full of pain and shame, sad eyes that glowed amber in the light of the moon.

Tentatively, Sammy stepped forward, reaching out a hand toward his brother. "Dean?"

The only reply his brother could muster was a scream that turned into a howl as his mouth and nose began to bulge out into a snout. Sam jumped back, pulling his hand away as he caught sight of the glittering teeth.

Dean dropped his head back down, staring at the dirty ground and panting, the only other noise in the forest the sound of his pants ripping as his knees snapped backwards and a tail wormed its way out of the space between his back pockets. Tatters of clothing littered the space around him, and with one hand he reached back and tore the rest from his body.

"Dean?" Sam asked again, stepping closer, figuring that it was done, "are you-?"

Dean's head snapped up, his ears swiveling towards his brother, lips pulled back into a snarl of purest rage, eyes flashing with anger. He was up off the ground before Sam even had time to react. The youngest Winchester found himself pinned painfully to a tree with a couple hundred pounds of pissed werewolf holding him there. "Dean?"

Dean growled, his hot breath blowing into Sam's face, teeth dangerously close to the younger man's neck.

"Is this about me leaving?" Sam ventured, knowing that it wasn't his brother, that this was something else, something feral, something that might have been tapping into Dean's subconscious, finding anger there, and acting on it. "I'm sorry. But-"

He fell to the ground with a thud, rubbing unconsciously at his sore butt. He looked up at his brother, who was backing away quickly, whimpering. "It's ok," Sam whispered, slowly climbing to his feet, "it wasn't you, was it?"

Still backing away, Dean shook his head.

"You said it was hard to control," Sam continued, stepping slowly toward his brother, "maybe even more when you first change?" Dean nodded again. "Can you talk?" A shake of his head. "Ok, then. Look, I'm fine. I understand." He took another step forward and smiled as he noticed that Dean had stopped his retreat. "It wasn't your fault."

Dean looked up at him with the same hurt, embarrassed expression he'd had before. He ducked his head down a little, his tail tucking itself between his legs. Sam had a hard time trying to keep himself from smiling at the scene. All his life, he'd never imagined he would see a werewolf look that pathetic.

"It's ok," he said again, walking slowly toward his brother and reaching out a hand, "really." His placed his hand on his brother's head and rubbed it back and forth, moving it to scratch him behind the ears.

Dean flashed him a dirty look, obviously not appreciating the gesture, but his tail gave away his happiness at being forgiven.

"All right," Sam grinned, pulling his hand away and looking closely at his brother, "let's see what we've got. You know, I've never really seen a werewolf up close before. Most of them were either running or attacking."

His first thought was that Dean looked like an oversized dog standing on its hind legs. Then he noticed the bulge of muscle beneath the fur. It was threatening, scary. He knew how Dean was able to overpower him so quickly before.

He eyes roved over his brother, taking in the strong arms that ended in five-fingered hands and wicked, deadly claws. He paid a lot of attention to the legs, noting the way that the knees bent backwards, like a dog's. "That hurt?" he asked, pointing it out. Dean shrugged, then nodded slowly. "Yeah, looks like it would."

He walked around his brother, determined to take in everything and cement it in his memory. He was never going to have another chance like that, never going to be able to investigate something supernatural up close. He ran a hand down the well-muscled back to the base of the tail, which hit his leg hard enough to nearly send him toppling over to show his brother's annoyance.

"One of your ears is bent," he observed, moving back around to his brother's front and finally looking him in the face. Dean shot him a confused look. "Wait, you've never looked in a mirror?" Dean shook his head. "You weren't curious?" Another negative. "Well, it's kinda cute, anyway. Makes you look almost innocent. Open up."

Dean gave him an 'are you kidding me?' look, but obliged, opening his mouth wide. Sam took a look, making sure he didn't get within snapping distance of what he assumed were very powerful jaws. "Nice," he breathed, "you could use a breath mint, though."

Dean scowled and swished his tail, a sign that he was done being poked and prodded like an eleven-year-old's science experiment and wanted to get on with the hunt. Sammy grinned and took his gun out of its place in his waistband. "Ready?"

His brother nodded, gazing around the forest with sharp eyes and starting off at a slow trot through the trees, his nose in the air. Sam followed, gun at the ready, waiting for Dean get the scent.

He glanced around the forest as he followed his brother, looking for signs of the other wolf's presence. He was so caught up in staring at the dark foliage that he almost screamed when he ran into Dean's outstretched hand and the claws curled slowly into his shirt.

"What?" he whispered, looking over at his brother before following the older man's gaze to a small clearing in the forest. A cabin sat in the midst of the clearing. It was old and rotting, missing its windows, and only had half a roof. In the darkness, his eyes could just barely make out a hulking shape moving around inside. "You think that's it?"

Dean gave him a curt nod. "Can you see?" Another nod. "All right, then." They watched the clearing, eyes tracking the dark shape as it moved around inside the run-down cabin. Finally, the other wolf made its way form its safe haven, stumbling out into the clearing, raising its snout into the air, and howling.

It turned its head towards the area where the brothers stood, hidden by trees, and stared at them. Sam held his breath, watching as the wolf sniffed at the air, stepping toward them. Dean moved slightly, putting himself between his brother and the other wolf.

The grey wolf stopped its journey towards them, turned, and took off at a run through the forest. Dean chased after it, leaving Sam behind to marvel at his brother's speed.

He ran after them, striding through the clearing easily, but slowing once he hit the trees again. How was he supposed to find them in the forest in the dark? He spun around, looking for signs of their presence, and saw, much to his delight, five deep gashes in a tree trunk. Someone had left him a trail of breadcrumbs.


	7. Chapter 7

I'm loving the way people responded to the last chapter, and, again, I do believe that everyone is entitled to his or ehr own opinion. I'm actually kinda glad I got some people riled up. Also, for you who think that i hate Sam nad he's always a jerk, try reading some of my other stories. I personally suggest Good, Split (both of them), and On Angel's Wings (especially the fourth one). I know he's a good guy. Really, I do.

In other news... sorry about the shortness of this chapter.

* * *

Dean ran through the forest, the wolf in front of him down on all fours, racing through the brush. He followed it, always careful to leave a trail for Sammy. He jumped from tree to tree, letting his claws dig deep into the bark, using each tree as a launching point. He was gaining on the freak that had bitten him, gaining faster than he'd thought he would.

The wolf turned suddenly and pounced at him, just as it had done two months before. Dean pushed himself off of the tree and away from the attack as the grey wolf went sailing past. He landed on all fours and spun, ready for the fight.

o0o0o0o0o

Sam heard the snarling before he saw the fight. He slowed his run to a quick trot, then finally to a slow walk, stepping carefully around the twigs that could give away his presence. His gun still drawn, he inched his way around a tree trunk to see what was happening.

The two werewolves were on top of each other, rolling around on the forest floor like they had the night before. Only this time, the grey one wasn't backing down. Dean managed to push it away, causing its skull to slam into a protruding rock. In the temporary lull in the battle, he looked over in Sam's direction, as if he knew that his brother was there.

The lull didn't last long, though, and the other wolf pounced, pushing Dean's head into the ground and stirring up dirt. It latched its teeth onto the back of his neck, eliciting a howl of pain from the hunter.

Dean struggled to his feet and slammed himself up against a tree, trapping the other wolf between it and his body. He looked back over at Sam, and in the moonlight that filtered through the thick leaves, the younger man could make out his brother's injuries.

His fur was matted with blood and he was missing a chunk of one of his ears. One eye was shut and surrounded by fresh blood, the fur gone from the area. He wondered if Dean had lost it.

The grey wolf shoved Dean away, using the tree to set up the launch, and was on him in and instant. Only when Sammy realized that his brothers arms were pinned helplessly beneath his body did he remember that he was supposed to be shooting the wolf.

As razor sharp claws dug deep into his brother's back, Sam aimed his pistol and fired, sending a silver bullet at the grey wolf, which had, apparently, not noticed his presence until it was too late.

The creature fell to the forest floor, blood leaking slowly from the hole in the side of its head. Sam approached it slowly, keeping his gun trained on the still form, even though the bullet had whizzed straight through the creature's brain and there was no chance of it still being alive.

He poked at it with his toe once before emptying his clip into the furry body. He watched with disgust as it slowly morphed back into the form of an older man, one who no longer had a face.

Sam turned to his brother, expecting to see a bloody, naked, probably very embarrassed young man. Instead, he saw only fur, blood, and a glinting amulet. "Dean?" Dean looked up at him, groaning as he moved his head. "You're still a werewolf."

Dean let out a weak whimper, one that sounded like a whistle in the back of his throat, and then let his head drop. Sammy glanced back at the old man once more before carefully working his arm around his brother's torso and helping the older man to his feet. He wrapped an arm under Dean's armpit and threw his brother's arm over his shoulder. Stumbling under the older man's weight, he left the forest.


	8. Chapter 8

Lots of questions, huh? Well, then, I guess we should answer those...

* * *

Dean awoke, his body throbbing with dull pain. It started in his head, intensified as it hit his neck, weakened at his shoulders, seared across his back, and waned as it moved down toward his feet.

He opened his eyes and found himself back in his motel room with a warm blanket spread over his body, his boxers and a t-shirt draped over a near-by chair. He sat up, gasping sharply as the sore muscles in his back protested the movement, and moved to grab his clothes.

Once he was dressed, he moved to the mirror and began assessing his injuries. The bit of his ear that had been bitten off seemed smaller, the cuts on his neck were nothing but nasty scars, and the deep gashes on his back had scabbed over. The eye that had nearly been gouged out of his head was still there, and, though a little bloodshot, he could see out of it, which was good. The skin around it was a bit scraped up, but that would heal with time.

_Gotta love the Wolverine thing_, he thought, flashing a quick smile at his reflection.

The smile faded, though, as soon as he caught sight of his brother's duffle bag, all packed up and ready to go. _"Dean? You're still a werewolf."_ If Dean knew his brother, and he did, then Sam wasn't going to let it go without an explanation. And 'it was just a theory' wasn't gonna cut it. He was gonna have to come clean. He was going to have to tell the truth, even if it meant that Sam would walk away in terror.

The door to the room opened up and Sam walked in, grimacing at his brother's injuries. "How you doing?"

Dean shrugged. "Better than I should be. That fight would have killed a normal man."

Sammy nodded, sitting down on his bed. "About that-"

"Look, Sam, it was a theory. It just wasn't a very good one. There's no cure."

"I called Bobby. And Josh. And Caleb. Dean, they all said that should have worked. Why didn't you change back?"

Dean sighed and sat down on his own bed, facing his brother. "It was an accident," he whispered.

Sam's eyes went wide. "You didn't."

The older man stared at him, hoping that his brother would pick up on the regret, the pain, the fact that he would have to live with his mistake for the rest of his life. "I couldn't control it."

"But you knew," Sam argued, "you knew what you were."

Dean hung his head. "I locked the motel room door. I tied myself to the bed. I boarded up the windows. But you saw how easily I lifted you up out there last night. I snapped the rope. I broke down the door. When I woke up, I was covered…" he trailed off, looking back up at his brother, searching for understanding. He was surprised when he found it. "I was covered in blood. This woman… I tore her apart, Sammy."

"It wasn't you-"

"But it _was_ me. I went back to my room. I thought about ending it, but I couldn't. I wanted to kill the son of a bitch that made me a monster. I was selfish. More people could have gotten hurt."

"But they didn't. Did they?"

Dean shook his head. "No. I got it under control after that. The memory… what I did… that helps. That helps a lot. It's kind of hard at the get-go, but once the change is done, I'm me. I'm sorry if I hurt you."

Sam lowered his eyes and rolled his shoulders around. "Just a little sore," he finally said.

"So," Dean said softly, looking back at the packed bag, "you heading out?"

"Gotta get back," Sam explained, "I've got an exam coming up."

"You're just gonna leave me like this?"

"Dean, I need to finish school."

The elder nodded. "Yeah. I know. And you can't do that with a monster hanging around."

"You're not-" Sam was cut off by the ringing of his phone in his pocket. He pulled it out and was surprised to see his father's name. "It's dad," he said, glancing up at Dean as the older man shoved his clothes back into his back and headed out the door.

Choosing to ignore his brother, Sammy answered. "Where is it and how soon do you want me there?" The same urgency with which he had answered his father's last call was gone, though.

"Sam. Did you get it?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, glancing toward the closed door, "and I found Dean."

"Dean? Where was he?"

"Tracking it."

"Why'd he take so long to kill it?"

Sammy glanced back at the door, wondering whether or not he should let his brother's secret slip. It was a stupid thing to wonder, really. Their father loved them. He would never consider killing one of his sons, no matter what that son might become when the moon turned full. "He got bitten." There was silence on the other line. "Dad?"

"What?" John barked.

"Yeah. It jumped him and bit him. He got a shot off before it ran away."

"Did you-?"

"We severed the bloodline, yeah, but it didn't work."

"He killed someone?"

"You need to understand-"

"I understand, Sammy," John's voice was harsh and uncaring, too cold for his son's liking, "you need to end it."

"What?"

"He's a monster now, Sam. You need to put him out of his misery."

"Dad, no!" Sam yelled, outraged, "he's not like that. He's in control."

"Just end it." The line went dead. Sam sat on his bed and started at the phone in his hand. He'd spent a lot of his life angry at his father, he'd even claimed to hate the man, but he'd never meant it. Not until today.

He looked back at the door, wondering what was taking Dean so long. He heard the rumble of the engine and crossed the room, throwing the door open in time to see the Impala screaming down the road.

_Doggy senses._ "Dammit!"


	9. Chapter 9

Sadly, this is the last chapter. Happily, I finished writing the sequel earlier this weekend. It's called "Flux" and I'll post it up later today, so keep your eyes peeled.

In other news, thanks for all the reviews, guys, even the bad ones. As I said before, to each his own and blah blah blah. If you hate the story but are still reading, I hope you appreciate the final chapter here. And jsut for the record, I wrote this entire story before posting it, like I do wtih all stories. It's how I can update so quickly. The ending's always been like this.

* * *

**One Month Later**

Valencia, Iowa

Sam stepped carefully through the rubble of the house, being as quiet as he could, thankful for the rising sun, which was casting just enough light into the place to allow him to see. He walked through the destruction that a particularly nasty poltergeist had made.

He entered what had once been a kitchen to find a tall, well-built man wearing only boxer shorts and a necklace standing over the dead bodies of four family members. "Dean?"

The man in the middle of the room spun around. "They were like this when I got here, I swear," he said quickly, eyes darting over the pistol in his brother's hand. His face fell.

"Poltergeist, right?"

Dean nodded slowly, shivering in the early morning chill. "Yeah."

"You bring your clothes with?"

"Wasn't expecting visitors," he admitted, blushing, "only brought this."

Sam nodded, his gun pointed at Dean's chest. "I'm guessing you overheard dad and I talking."

"You guessed right. Doggy senses and all."

"Why'd you wait so long before coming here?"

Dean grinned sheepishly, though the expression never touched his scared eyes. "I told you about this one. Figured I'd throw you off the trail and you'd get tired of waiting. Looks like I waited too long, though."

"You got it, right?"

"It's gone."

Sam nodded. "Good. I can put this away." He slipped the pistol back into the waistband of his jeans.

Dean's eyes went wide. "You're not here to kill me?"

"Dude, no way. I've been tracking you down to tell you that."

"But dad said-"

"Since when have I done what dad says? Look, you're not a monster. Just because you fought and lost for one night doesn't make any less human than you were before. You've always had crappy self-control. I saw what you did in that forest, the way you still wanted to save these people. You're still you."

Dean smiled, and this time, the expression did reach his eyes. "Dad know you're doing this?"

Sam nodded. "I think he got the message."

"He's gonna be after me."

"That's why I'm here," Sam admitted, slipping out of his jacket and handing it to his brother, who gratefully took it and bundled up against the chill air, "someone's gotta save your furry little ass."

"You mean it?"

"Yeah, I do. I contacted the good folks at Stanford, told them I'm taking another leave of absence, and they told me not to come back. Like it or not, you're stuck with me." Sam smiled, realizing that he'd never seen his brother so happy.

"Awesome," Dean grinned, "but we're really gonna have to cover our tracks, man."

Sam nodded. "I'm already on it. So, we gonna salt and burn these guys, just to be safe?"

"Sure thing. Got the stuff?"

"In the car."

"You know," Dean said as they walked out of the house, side by side, to get their supplies, "you're gonna have to ditch that hunk of junk."

"Dad knows your car better than mine."

"Doesn't matter. Your rust bucket's gotta go."

Sam smiled, stuffing his hands into his pockets. It was only a matter of time before their father found them, only a matter of time before Dean would die- because, let's face it, neither son could bring himself to kill John- but Sam figured that that was all right, as long as they spent that time together.

* * *

The End.

See? Sammy came around in the end. I told you he would :)

Hope you enjoyed it!


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